Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Here and Now

This moment falls from my hands like a broken string of pearls
Nanoseconds scattering on the floor of cold unheeding barren gray stone
Time evanescent evaporates instantaneously

This moment hurls itself out the window faster than the speed of light
A wave that made its humble way from the shores lapping waves of the waters of yesterday
And found its way to here and now having curved back on itself over tomorrow's wave

Grandma used to say there used to be an incandescent street lamp where there is now a tube light
She fondly remembered the days when a lamplighter used to shimmy up a ladder each new evening
To trim the wick and set it to flame as the family gathered around the radio for the news broadcast

This very moment a son is born to the salt merchant's son's son's son
Five generations have lived on our street and have each sported the same bulbous nose
Nothing changes yet everything is different everyday